To love a monster
by RandomRachel
Summary: Brendan would do anything for Steven and Ste would do the same. The only problem is, where do you draw the line? How far is too far? For Ste and Brendan there is no such thing, not where family is concerned. But Brendan is playing a dangerous game and the bodies are piling up. As they grow closer, Ste learns that loving Brendan comes at a price. Can he really love a monster?
1. Fear

Hiya! This starts from when Ste gets the phone call that Brendan is in hospital. It's different from there onwards. I haven't wrote in awhile so please review. I've been busy with stuff and you guys don't wanna hear about my problems so... sorry I haven't continued my last fic. I'll continue this one though. I promise. :)

Critisism, comments and compliments are all welcome.

Thank you and hope you like it! XD

Fear, family and the future

Fear. Ste hadn't felt it in awhile but it was easy to recognize. It was different this time. Worse. Worse than when he was 7, looking up and Terry and knowing, just _knowing_, by the look in his eye that the pain was coming. Worse than when he was just a teenager and he was getting sentenced in court, his whole future derailed and tainted by a criminal record. Worse even than when he looked up at the man he thought he knew, the man he thought he loved, and saw the same look in his eye, the only warning before he was doubled over in agony. This wasn't fear for himself or fear of pain. This was just out-right blind panic. Ever since that moment - since that stupid, _stupid _phone call - his mind had been running wild, fear poisoning his thoughts. What if he didn't make it, what if he had to say goodbye? How could he say goodbye? Visions of Brendan in one of his best suits, eyes closed lying in a coffin... they wouldn't leave him alone.

Ste ran into the hospital like a mad-man. His eyes were wide and searching, wet with un-shed tears because he couldn't cry. Not yet. He had to hold himself together or it would all fall apart. He would fall apart. Body running on auto-pilot, he made his way through corridor after corridor. He wasn't concentrating when he bumped into someone.

"Sorry." Ste muttered and continued to walk. A voice stopped him.

"Ste?" She asked and he looked back.

"Cheryl. Hi." He replied as he took in the women before him. She looked a mess: make up smudged, eyes red and puffy, her body almost curled in on itself. She looked distraught, depressed, vulnerable. She looked like she was grieving.

"I came here to see Brendan. He's... he's okay, isn't he? He's not... He's not..." He couldn't say the word. It's like, if he didn't say it aloud then it wasn't true. But one look at Cheryl and he knew it couldn't be good news. But he couldn't have just... died. Not like that.

"Yeah. Brendan's okay. He'll live." She replied, voice cold and lacking the relief he expected to hear.

_Brendan's okay. Brendan's okay. Brendan's okay. Jesus Christ._He guessed that he was in shock or something because he was crying anyway. Tears ran down his face but Ste didn't care enough to wipe them away. He was happy, so fucking happy. It was like a weight had vanished from his chest. It was like the world had suddenly been set to rights. He was giddy, high on relief. His laughter rang out, loud and unrestrained. His grin threatened to split his face and he had to smack a hand over his mouth to keep the sobs in. God, things had happened so fast. He went from being fine, to having his world ripped apart, to being told everything was fine again and it messed with his emotions. Going from one extreme to another. His head spun but his heart slowed down and he felt like he could breath again.

"Brendan's okay." Ste whispered to himself and he smiled one last time before he pulled himself together.

Cheryl looked at him like he was crazy and Ste knew that he probably looked a little bit unstable. He didn't mind. But now that the fear was gone, the questions came flooding in and he wanted to ask them. Wanted to know everything. Wanted to know the who, what, where, when and why's. Specifically who. Who's fault was it? Who put Brendan in that hell hole? Who almost ripped Ste's world apart? But he looked at Cheryl again, took note of the bags under her eyes and slightly shaking body, and kept his mouth shut. It wasn't the time or the place. Blame... blame could wait till later. Ste put his own curiosity aside for her because she looked like she needed someone.

"And you... are you okay?" Ste asked gently. She looked lost.

"No." She said, voice breaking. Tears collected in her eyes and he rushed forward, taking her in his arms.

"Shhhh. It's okay. It's gonna be okay." he soothed, trying to help even though he didn't know what was wrong. He was hardly in a fit state to reassure anybody anyway but he tried for her. Ste had never been good at the whole comfort thing. Never been able to say the right words. Cheryl didn't seem to mind though. She buried her face in his shoulder as he held her, trying to contain the sobs that rocked her body.

"What's happened Chez?"

"It's my Nana, she... she's gone. Cancer. I had to... I had to view the body. Just like... just like with Lynsey." She cried and he hugged her tighter. It wasn't fair. She deserved better, a million times better than the shit she had to go through.

"Oh God. Cheryl, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He murmured and suddenly he understood. Those tears, they weren't for Brendan. Ste held her tightly to his chest and hoped she knew. Hoped she understood how much he cared for her. How much he wanted to make it better.

Only it didn't seem to be working. She trembled beneath his hands. Fragile.

He made her a promise. Ste knew he wasn't good with words but he found some from somewhere. Something to hold her together.

"Cheryl. Cheryl, look at me. You, you're perfect. You're an amazing, beautiful person and you deserve so much. I know that right now it hurts. I know that it hurts so much and you think it'll never stop. But I promise you now, I promise you that it's going to get better. You going to keep going because you can. You're strong. The strongest person I've ever met. You're going to get through this because there is so much out there waiting for you. You've got a future." Ste looked into her eyes and he thought she knew, just then, how much he meant it. How much he believed it. He flashed her a watery smile and took her hands. "You've just got to keep it together until the good stuff. After that, you never have to look back. All this pain and anger and hurt, you're gonna forget about it. It's the happy times you'll remember. All those good memories, the ones of you and you Nana. Of you and Lynsey. They're what's gonna last. You'll get through this Chez. I believe in you."

She pulled back, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze, and sent him a grateful smile. He could sense the change in her. She was pulling herself together. Pulling herself up of the ground. He was proud of her for it but he knew how hard it was, when you've hit rock bottom. He didn't know what was going on in her head but he knew that she would need help.

"If you need anything, anyone, I'm there for you. No questions asked. I promise."

"Thank's Ste. You're a good friend. The best." She whispered and wiped her eyes. It startled him a bit 'cause he didn't have many. Friends, that is. Never had. It's just the way he was. Ste was so used to hiding a part of himself away. Ever since he was a kid and had to hide his fear as well as his bruises. He'd never been comfortable with the honesty and intimacy of close friends. Not that he felt like he'd missed out or anything. For years, it'd been Ste, Amy and the kids. They were more than he'd ever had and all he'd thought he'd ever need. That only changed when he met Brendan. It was funny really, how Brendan was the one who made him want something honest and open while all Brendan wanted for them was to stay in the shadows. Not that Brendan was ever a friend of Ste's. But Cheryl was. A good one, one he didn't want to lose.

"I mean it. Anything."

She nodded before gesturing forwards. "I think... I think I should go. Thank you for being here for me."

"You're welcome. I'll see you in a bit. I'm just going to check on Brendan, you know. See how he is." He said, about to walk away when she stopped him. Her grip was steel around his wrist, holding him in place.

"I know you won't listen to me Ste but I've got to... I can't... I can't keep my mouth shut." Cheryl sighed, searching for words, "Brendan's trouble. He's dangerous. You know better than most. I just think you've got a good thing going, with Doug. Don't let him spoil it, okay? Don't let him back in, he'll only hurt you. You're better of without him."

Ste stared at her in shock. Cheryl'd always been in Brendan's corner. He looked at her and saw genuine concern for him in her eyes. Fear for him. Fear of Brendan. He didn't know what had happened and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Ste thought about Danny and wondered what she'd think if she knew. What would she think of him, for keeping it a secret? What would she think of Brendan? Would she still love him?

He nodded mutely and she let go, taking off down the hall. He walked on slower than before. He hesitated, when he reached his room. Ste could see the door, about a meter in front of him but he couldn't reach for the handle. Something stopped him. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? Showing up there, out of the blue, when Brendan was supposed to mean nothing. They were supposed to mean nothing. Just skeletons in the closet. Water under the bridge. Memories from the past.

_What if he doesn't want to see me_, Ste thought, _what if he doesn't care about me anymore.  
_  
God knows he'd given him reason to give up on them. That past year... it had been tough for both of them. What if... what if... what if... It was all they were. A bunch of what if's. But not again. Ste needed to see him because he wasn't meaningless. They weren't meaningless. Even though it was bound to be his downfall, Ste still cared about him. It looked like Brendan would need someone on his side anyway, now Cheryl'd upped and left him. He swallowed his anxiety and opened the door, marching into the room like it was his right to be there.

And promptly froze at the sight in front of him.

_Jesus Christ. This... it isn't right_. Ste thought, eyes wide.

He looked fragile, skin white and pasty. Face cut and bruised. Eyes roamed under closed lids and his head thrashed slightly. Nightmares.

"Brendan?" Ste asked, voice lost. He didn't know what to do. How could he help? Should he have even been trying?

Brendan stirred in his sleep, eyes blinking open with a start. He looked terrified and Ste wished he knew what he'd been dreaming about. Wished he knew what could possibly scare him so much. It seemed to register that there was another person in the room as his body froze up. Tense, like he was expecting a fight. When he saw Ste, he relaxed. His fists unclenched and he settled back down.

"St... Steven?" He asked, brow furrowed. Ste wanted to smooth his fingers along the lines, ease some of the worry, but it wasn't his place - not anymore. So he hovered by the door instead, useless and self-conscious. His fingertips fidgeted with the bottom of his top.

Brendan looked at him like he couldn't believe he was there and Ste gave him a tentative smile. "Hiya."

"Hi." He replied and Ste edged further into the room. He told him to sit down and he does, eyes not sure where to look.

They were suspended in silence, neither one willing to break it. They stayed like that for minute after minute. Brendan looking at nothing but Ste and Ste looking at anything but Brendan. Eventually, it became too much and Ste looked up, finally meeting his eyes.

"Who?" He demanded and Brendan appeared confused. Then he took in set of his jaw, the steel in his eyes, his balled up fists and he knew.

"It doesn't matter." He said, closing his eyes against the memories. Joel, Cheryl, Walker, his Nana, his Da... it was too much. He didn't want to drag it up now.

"It matters, Brendan. It matters to me." He insisted, raising his voice. "Who did it? Who did this to you?"

Brendan chose to give the short explanation rather than the long one - that version gave too much away. Left him too vulnerable. "Nobody. The boiler was broken, leaking gas. That's what caused the explosion."

"Really?" Ste asked, voice skeptical.

"Yes, really." Brendan sighs, willing the boy not to push it. He wasn't sure if he could keep everything to himself, if Ste decided to dig deeper.

And then what would you think, Brendan wonders, if you knew what a monster I really am?

His shoulders relax and he sags forward, head resting in his hands. "You scared me, you know that? I thought you'd gone and gotten yourself killed."

"And you were going to seek revenge, were you? How thoughtful of you." Brendan joked dryly.

"Course I was." He said, voice deadly serious. He was looking at the floor, eyes unfocused.

He must of realized what he'd said because he looked up, startled, and moved to cover himself with a joke. It came a second too late, though. "You can't be dying now. You still owe me £5.50 from the last time you was in the deli."

Brendan keeps quiet, staring at him. Ste recalls the look in his eyes with dread. It made him think that the man could see into his mind, into his soul.

Don't do this, Ste begged in his mind, Don't over-analyze it. Don't question it. Don't question me.

"Why are you here, Steven?" And there it was. The question Ste had been dreading.

_I don't know. Because I was scared and angry and I needed to know you were okay? Because I still care about you? Because I really, really don't want you to die? Because, maybe, a part of me still loves you? _Ste was lost for words. How could he explain the complete sense of panic that had driven him to the hospital, to Brendan? Even if he could explain his feelings, his pride wouldn't let him. Ste had long ago learnt that if you give Brendan Brady an inch, he would take a mile. If he admitted that he cared, Brendan would keep going until he admitted he still loved him. Then he would have nothing again. Brendan would hold all the cards. Again. So he kept quiet.

"Steven... does Douglas know that you're here?" He asked, eyes searching the other man's. He tried to find something, anything, to give him a clue as to what the boy was thinking.

Ste gasped and bit his lip. Doug. How could he have forgotten about Doug? Amazing, wonderful Doug: his fiancé. He hadn't really had the chance to think about it yet but he was engaged. He was going to get married. He'd never wanted to be married before. In fact, he was very strongly against marriage in general. He thought it was unnecessary. It just tied you down, made you miserable. He'd seen it plenty of times with plenty of different people: the first being his mother and Terry. But Ste had just got so caught up in the moment. Doug loved him. Doug wanted to marry _him_, Steven Hay. Ste loved Doug, as well. Of course he did. Doug was a light in the storm. He was kind and funny and amazing and god, Ste loved him. But, marriage? That wasn't something that could disappear easily. No, marriage was a huge commitment. It made Doug his husband. It made Doug _family_. Ste wasn't sure if he wanted that: more family. He'd always thought that it was him, Amy, Leah and Lucas against the world. Everyone else, they always let him down. But he'd always known that all he'd ever need was those three people and he'd be okay. They always came first, were always the number one priority. But then he'd have to add Doug to the list. Would have to make him a priority as well. Could he promise to do that, for the rest of his life? Could he promise to always put Doug first? It scared Ste, the thought of that type of commitment. Could he imagine a life with Doug forever? Could he let Doug be a part of his family? Ste shook the questions away because it wasn't the type to be having second thoughts. Not there, with Brendan.

"Steven, does Douglas know?" Brendan repeated, looking at him in concern.

"There's something I've got to tell you Brendan. I don't want you hearing it from someone else." He said, side-stepping the question. "I don't know how to tell you but..."

"Just tell me, Steven. Whatever it is."

"I'm... I'm engaged. To Doug, obviously. I just thought that it should, you know, come from me. I wanted to be the one to tell you." He trailed off.

A tense silence engulfed the room for what, to Ste, seemed like hours. Brendan stared at him in shock, surprise clear on his face.

"Right. Congratulations, I guess." He said weakly.

"Yeah. Thanks." Ste said, voice small.

"You should go." He murmured.

Ste looked at him for a long moment before turning. "Yeah." He walked towards the door, turning back just before he opened it. "Get well soon, Brendan."

Ste walked away and he didn't look back. Not once. He refused to regret his actions. He hadn't done anything wrong, after all. He had every right to move on, get engaged. Be happy. But, although Ste left Brendan behind in the hospital, the guilt still followed him home.

He's known that it was coming. It'd been coming for a long time, after all. He'd just refused to see it. But he saw it know, as clear as day. Steven had made sure of that.

_I'm engaged. To Doug, obviously._

Sure, Brendan had known that the day would come when the lad would move on. He just didn't expect it to hurt this much when it did.

He knew that this was good for Steven. He knew this was what he deserved. Happiness with someone who could love him like he should be loved. Someone safe to spend his life with. A future to look forward to. Brendan knew, he _knew_, that he couldn't offer him these things. Couldn't be the man that Steven needed. That didn't stop him from wishing, though. Wishing that things were different, that he was different. It didn't stop him from hating Douglas either. He hated him for taking his boy. For waking up next to him every morning. For working with him everyday. For touching him and kissing him and being with him. He hated Doug because he was nice and normal and everything Brendan wasn't. He hated him because he loved Steven. He hated Doug because Steven loved him. Steven - his boy, his lover, his world - loved Douglas and it ripped him apart everyday.

Rachey Ayy xx


	2. Mistakes

I updated, yey! Sorry, I know it's short. I just wanted to get it posted. Hopefully, the next one will be longer. I keep getting distracted by the actual show! By the way, thank you for the reviews/follows!  
Enjoy! XD

Mistakes

_How dare he_, Brendan thought as he listened to the crazed man in front of him,_ how dare he threaten me. The people I love.  
_  
"I wonder who'll be first. What about Cheryl, the beloved sister? Or Joel, the adoptive son? Or Ste... Steven." Walker looked at him and smirked, a cruel twitch of his lips that barely resembled a smile. Brendan wondered, as he lay, helpless, in the hospital bed, how he'd ever trusted the maniac in front of him. How could he have identified with him? Thought of him as a partner in crime, a friend maybe. How had he let himself get forced into this situation? He thought of that night, when he'd been controlled by fear and desperation. He thought of how he'd touched Walker. Fucked him. It didn't matter that it hadn't meant anything, didn't matter that it had been animalistic and fuelled by anger and hate. Didn't matter that it could've been anyone, any other willing body. All that mattered was that Brendan had slept with Walker and it made him feel sick to his stomach. All that mattered was that he'd done everything wrong, broke every one of his rules. _Weak, _Brendan thought with despair, _I'm so god-damn weak. _

"You thought I didn't know, didn't you? About you and Ste." Walker laughed, shaking his head. "But I'd have been blind to miss it. Every night, you'd stare at that deli. Every time he walked by, you'd follow him with your eyes. You love him, don't you? I can see it, whenever you look at him. Whenever he's mentioned. You're obsessed."

"Shut the fuck up, Walker." Brendan growled, eyes narrowed dangerously.

Walker quirked an eyebrow in challenge, "That reminds me. He's engaged, isn't he? To that American boy. Doug. Their engagement party's tomorrow. I heard Ste talking about it with Cheryl. He looked... happy. Really happy. How's it feel, Brendan? Doesn't it hurt, knowing the man you love is happy with someone else? Doesn't it tear you apart inside?"

Brendan's jaw clenched as he listened to Walker taunting him. Steven, the engagement- it was still raw. Walker was pouring salt in to an open wound, discussing things Brendan wasn't ready to discuss.

"It's a shame, really. Because soon, I'm going to have to spoil that happiness. Ste should enjoy it while it lasts."

Brendan shook with anger, with fear, with pain. He could live with the misery if Steven married Douglas because he knew that the lad would be safe, would be happy. To Brendan, that was enough. But he couldn't deal with Steven being hurt. Couldn't deal with it if he... if he died. Brendan wouldn't, couldn't, let that happen. He couldn't live with the loss, never mind the guilt. Steven didn't deserve the... the poison that surrounded him, that destroyed everything Brendan touched. He deserved so much more. He deserved the whole god-damn world and Brendan knew, he knew, that he could've been the one to give him it. If thing's had been different, if he'd been different. Stronger, smarter, braver, better. Normal. If Brendan had been normal, then maybe they could've had a chance. But Brendan wasn't normal, had never stood a chance, not with his upbringing. Brendan was a monster and Steven was going to pay the price.

"You can't do this, Walker. Please don't do this. Don't hurt him. Please, Walker. You're fights with me. He's innocent. Please. He hasn't done anything wrong." Brendan begged because he wasn't above begging - not for Steven. Anything for Steven. But one look into Walker's cold eyes showed that it was pointless. Walker was beyond reason.

"Yes he has. He loves you and you love him. That's enough to sign his death sentence, I'm afraid." With that, Walker spun around and left, leaving Brendan cursing behind him.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, How could I let this happen? _

"Nurse. Nurse!" He screamed, hearing the click of heels as a woman rushed through the door, "I need to get out of here."

* * *

"Ste... Ste. Hey, Ste! Are you listening?" Doug's exasperated voice filled Ste's mind, distracting him from his thoughts.

Ste looked up, smiling guiltily. "Sorry."

"That's the third time in ten minutes! You're miles away. What's the matter? Is it Brendan?"

"No!" Ste lied quickly. "It's not. It's just... a lot to take in, you know?"

"I know. We're getting married!" Doug's pleased face made Ste feel like shit. Right in front of him was his perfect boyfriend - fiancé - planning their engagement party and he was thinking about his ex. It's not like he didn't want to make Doug happy, it was just... Ste didn't see the point of some engagement party. They were going to get married. Ste knew that, Doug knew that. Why did the whole village need to know? Ste found himself zoning out of the preparations and letting his mind drift. And, like it usually does when he doesn't keep his thoughts in check, his mind drifted towards a certain Irishman. He wondered how he was, stuck in the hospital. Driving himself mad, probably. Ste could relate. He hated hospitals. They always had this... _aura _of misery. Like the thousands of grieving families and terrified patients had left a permanent stain on the place. He felt sorry for Brendan, being trapped in one.

"But do we really want to have the party at Chez Chez?" Doug asked, frowning.

"Why not?" Ste sighed, "Cheryl's offered to let us have the place for free. It's on our doorstep and it serves booze. What more do you want?"

"But... you know..."

Ste stared at him blankly.

"Brendan."

Ste sighed again. He was sick of this conversation. Every second word out of Doug's mouth was Brendan this or some love-of-your-life shit. Ste understood, he did. If some ex of Doug's was constantly around, he would be jealous. Hell, he would be more than jealous. He would be fuming. But, Ste had chosen Doug. What more did he want? A kidney?

"Brendan's in hospital. He won't be there. He won't even be mentioned. It's not a problem." Ste insisted.

"But it's his club. He owns it. You really want to have the party in your ex's club?"

"Look, Doug, I've told you that he's not going to be there. I've told you that we're over. What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I wasn't saying that... I'm sorry, okay? It's just hard, knowing you were with him." Doug looked so fragile then, so uncertain, that it broke Ste's heart. He hated, hated, it when him and Doug fought. Ste knew that it was his fault as well. It usually was. Guilt coiled, ugly and cold, in his belly and he swallowed nervously.

"It's not your fault. Let's not think about it, okay? We should be happy. We're getting married." Ste said gently, keeping his voice neutral and trying not to reveal anything.

Ste put a brave face on it, like he always did. He was just so used to hiding things from people, it had become second nature. Doug didn't need to know that he'd gone to see Brendan. Doug didn't need to know how much it had hurt, seeing him like that. Doug didn't need to know about his fear of the upcoming wedding. Doug didn't need to know about the steadily rising feeling of dread. No, Doug didn't need to know any of it so, like always, Ste lied. It was the easiest solution - let him deal with it himself. It never even occurred to him to be open and honest, like other couples were. The phrase 'a problem shared is a problem halved' wasn't something he grew up hearing. 'Fuck off and do it yourself" was Pauline's motto. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly distant and isolated, Ste wondered just how much Pauline and Terry had messed him up. He remembered the therapist that he'd had to visit after his disastrous relationship with Amy. He knew he would never go again, even if it had curbed his anger for a while, because he knew, ultimately, that it wasn't the endless talking that had helped him. It was the fact that, back then, he'd had something to fight for. But, lately, it was becoming harder and harder for him to find those things that made him want to be better. The things that made him get up in the morning. Doug was all Ste had left and he just hoped that it was enough, for both of them.

Ste wondered what Doug would think, if he knew everything. If he knew him inside out, every sordid detail. Every terrible mistake. Every dark thought. Every moment of anger and every moment of pain. The good, the bad and the down right ugly. Ste wondered what Doug would say, if he knew about Pauline and what a selfish cow he'd been raised by. If he knew about Terry and his abusive take on parenting. If he knew about Amy and every time he'd hurt her. Ste wondered how Doug would react, if he knew he was marrying a monster.

Rachey Ayy xx


	3. Desperate times

I downplayed Brendan's injury a bit and the characters are kind of OOC and I'm not that happy with it but here it is.

Please review :)

Desperate times call for desperate measures 

Waking up next to Doug had always been one of the high-lights of Ste's day. There was something intimate, something reassuring, about the feel of Doug's head on his chest. Something calming about the rhythm of Doug's heartbeat beneath his fingertips. The heat from his body had made him feel safe and looking at him, mouth open and face peaceful, had always made Ste smile fondly. It was something that Ste hadn't experienced much: the domestic, morning bliss. With Brendan, he'd been lucky if he'd stayed the night at all. Even when he had, Ste'd always been filled with wariness and apprehension, unsure of which version of Brendan he would wake up next to. But Doug was completely different. He would smile when he woke up; would bury a little further into Ste's body while mumbling 'good morning'; would give him a chaste kiss on the lips which could turn into something more, if they weren't needed at the deli.

On the day of the engagement party however, Doug's presence gave him little comfort. Doug's sleeping face only made Ste frown, the innocence making him uncomfortable. Ste wondered, not for the first time, what this man could possibly love about him. He was a bad person, after all. Ste knew the end was coming, could feel it in his heart. It was like they were hanging on a thread, just waiting for the moment when it would snap. He knew that it would be his fault, when it ended. Something would happen, it always did, and things would fall apart.

_And then,_ He thought, _who will I have? No one_.

It's not that Ste had given up hope of being happy. No, he hoped, so god damn much, that things would work out this time. That he'd finally got it right. But the odds were stacked against him, against them, and he had a history of past mistakes that spoke volumes. Yes, he hoped that things would work out but he didn't believe. He didn't believe in happily ever after's, didn't believe in weddings because he knew that they never lasted. But he was willing to try for Doug. He would take a chance, a shot at happiness, and he would start again when - if - things went to shit.

These thoughts didn't help ease Ste's fear though, or his guilt. He didn't even know for sure why he felt guilty. Was it for lying to Doug, keeping secrets? Was it for practically abandoning Brendan, choosing Doug instead of him? Ste knew it was both of these things but it was also something more. Something darker and hidden deeper, hidden so far down he barely knew about it himself.

He felt guilty because he knew, deep down, that he was letting himself down. He was betraying his principles. He was betraying Brendan, the man he'd loved for two years. He was betraying Doug, his friend and lover. He was betraying himself, by being a coward. He was so scared of being alone that he was kidding himself. Turning friendship into love, turning love into hate. But Ste was so used to hiding his feelings from others, that he'd hidden them from himself as well. He was too stubborn to admit his mistake, too afraid to hurt the people he cared for all over again. Too far gone to turn back.

"Morning." sighed Doug sleepily, tilting his head up to kiss Ste.

"Morning." Ste smiled against his lips, letting Doug's presence anchor his mind to Earth.

"I wish I could stay here forever." He mumbled, his nose brushing Ste's. Shoving down the surge of shame that reared it's ugly head at his loving words, Ste held Doug a little tighter.

"I love you." He whispered, burying his face in Doug's neck.

"I love you too." Doug laughed, then started to gently stroke lines up and down his arm. "Hey, Ste. Hey, are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine." Ste assured him. "I just wanted you to know. That I love you, I mean. "

"You sure nothing's happened?" Doug pressed, confused by Ste's behavior. He sounded strangely... fragile.

"I'm sure." he replied, and moved back looking Doug in the eyes. "You do love me, don't you? You're sure you want to get married?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Doug exclaimed, startled, before continuing gently, "I love you, Ste."

Ste smiled, a delicate, unsure twitch of his lips, before kissing Doug softly on the corner of his mouth. "Good."

They stayed like that - Ste guilty and vulnerable, Doug confused and comforting - for a while before Ste got up, pulling himself up from Doug.

"We've gotta get up. We've got that party to organize and that." He said, going off in search of clothes.

"And you're sure you're okay?" Doug questioned.

"Positive." Ste replied, flashing Doug a reassuring smile over his shoulder.

Doug didn't see the smile slip of his face a second later, as soon as Ste'd turned his back.

Brendan knew that the clock was ticking, could feel it in his chest. A sense of foreboding weighing heavily on him, pushing him to be better. Be stronger. Act quicker, before it was too late. He knew his body's limitation's though. He'd damaged himself in that damn explosion. He felt weak, his energy drained. His leg hurt like a bitch. He didn't care though. not when people needed him. Not when Cheryl and Joel and Steven needed him.

Brendan's feet hovered over the edge of the hospital bed as his hands gripped the bed sheets. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up. Stumbling under his own weight, he willed his legs not to buckle beneath him. He needed to get out of the hospital. He needed to see Walker and... what? Kill him? Brendan knew that he would, if it came to that. He hated himself for the ease in which he accepted it - that he was going to kill someone again. Hated that it had come to this.

God, what the hell was he now? A serial killer? A sociopath? Brendan didn't feel different... crazy. He just felt desperate. He didn't want to kill Walker, he had to. He didn't enjoy it, it made him feel sick. Brendan knew he was a bad person, that he was going to hell and he'd accepted it. He'd known for a long time. But, in all his life, he never thought he'd have to cross that line. Now that he had, he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do. Where was the limit? Murder... it wasn't too much. Not to Brendan, not anymore. It was terrifyingly easy, horrifically simple. Kill someone, get rid of the body, don't get caught. He remembered the feeling, the soul-crushing guilt and disgust he'd felt when he'd killed Danny. It had gotten easier, Brendan supposed, after that. Mick hadn't weighed on his conscience as much, maybe because he hadn't really intended to kill him. He'd almost just accepted it was an accident. It helped that the bastard deserved it. His Nana had been... hard. He'd felt something die inside, when she'd told him what she'd done. Or what she hadn't done rather. It had been anger and hate that had driven him to it. God, it had hurt so much. He'd felt so alone, so betrayed. Looking back, Brendan had trouble thinking about it. He'd loved her so much, until that day. The day he killed her. He knew that it would haunt him forever. He didn't know what was worse; his one, disastrous mistake or her years and years of cowardice and abandonment.

That brought him to Walker. The fourth, and hopefully last, person to die by his hand. Brendan took a deep breath and limped forward, wincing slightly. He put murder out of his mind and focused on getting out of the hospital and to the people who needed him. They were all he had left after all.

Ste sipped his drink, champagne because they was celebrating, whilst trying not to let his discomfort show. Parties... he was never very good with parties. Ste hardly ever had anything that called for celebrating. On the rare occasions when he did, he would usually just go for a night out with Amy and get horrifically drunk before stumbling home together. Ste felt awkward there, being in the spotlight. Having people come over and congratulating him. Having to make small talk with people he barely knew. Darren, Rhys, Dodger... they were all Doug's friends, not his. He didn't fit in there, with those people. He knew it and they knew it. The only person who didn't was Doug, who was beaming at everyone and acting like they were all BFF's. Ste stayed near the bar, kept his drink filled and his smile wide. Cheryl made the night better. She stayed by his side, one of the only people who were there for him and not Doug or the open bar. Ste liked Cheryl, she was sweet and outrageous and funny. Needless to say, they had a laugh.

"You sure you've not had enough, love?" Joked Cheryl, just as drunk as him if not more so.

"Not nearly enough Chez." He slurred, looking down at the champagne in his hand. He put the near empty glass on the bar and ordered a beer, much more his style.

"You're supposed to be celebrating, you know." She laughed, pulling his cheeks up so he was smiling again.

"I am. This is how I celebrate."

"By drinking your weight in alcohol?"

"Exactly." He agreed, saluting her with his bottle.

She giggled before gasping, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"Shots!"

"Yes." Ste cried, smacking the bar with his hand.

"Yes what?" Asked Doug as he wondered over, tipsy but not as drunk as they clearly were. He slung an arm around Ste's shoulder and raised his eyebrows.

"Shots." Ste explained, grinning.

"Haven't you had enough?" Asked Doug, a frown creasing his forehead.

"Don't be such a spoil sport."

"Yeah! Come on, love. Join in!" Cheryl laughed.

Ste knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that getting that drunk was a bad idea. He knew that he couldn't handle his alcohol and he knew that he couldn't trust himself when drunk. But he couldn't bring himself to care, not when it made him feel so much better. It was amazing how easily things like guilt disappeared when you added enough alcohol into the equation. So Ste knocked back the shots like a pro, laughing all the while.

"I think I need some fresh air." He mumbled, stumbling away from the bar. His head was swimming and his vision was blurry but he shook it off and walked, more or less, in the direction he knew to lead to the balcony. The fresh air was cold and bitter, the sky dark and cloudy. He leant against the railing and sighed, running his hands through his hair. It was harder to pretend when he was out there, without Cheryl's uplifting presence.

"Steven."

"Fucking hell!" Yelped Ste, spinning around. "Give me a heart attack, why don't you?"

"Sorry." Brendan said, stepping closer. "I need to talk to you."

"Yeah well, now ain't a good time." He mumbled, annoyed at hearing the slur of his words.

"I know that I ain't your favorite person but it's important." Brendan gripped his arm, voice urgent. "I need you to listen to me."

"No, you listen!" Ste hissed, yanking his hand off, "This is my engagement party, okay? I'm engaged! Why can't you just fuck off somewhere else, yeah?"

"No! List-"

"Leave me alone, Brendan!" Ste shouted desperately. He knew that this was bad. Very, very bad. Alcohol and Brendan didn't mix. He needed to be stone-cold sober when Ste dealt with him, needed to keep his head at all times. Ste was feeling too vulnerable and knew that he couldn't be around Brendan. Not with his self control so low. He didn't want to do something that he'd regret.

"You're in danger! You're being targeted because of me, because of your connection to me."

Ste frowned, trying to figure out what the hell he was on about. "What? In danger? Because of you. Of course I am! It's always you! It's like you just... poison everything."

"I know." He whispered, holding Ste's wrist gently. "I know. But I want to protect you. I need to keep you safe. Please, let me keep you safe."

"No! I'll never be safe with you! I want nothing to do with you. You wreck everything. I try to be happy. With Doug. But you always wreck it!"

"What?"

Ste went on, looking distressed. "You're always there. Even when you're not there, it's like you're still there. You know? It's like I can't get away from you. Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?" He looked at him in earnest, "Why can't I let you go?"

Brendan thought he understood then, what Ste meant. he understood because he felt it as well. Brendan may have changed and Ste may have changed but the thing between them, the connection - it hadn't changed at all.

"I'm sorry, Steven. Okay? I'm sorry. But please, let me help." He begged, trying to get through to him.

"No! Just leave me alone!" Ste glared at him, eyes blazing. "I don't need your help, I don't need your protection. I don't need you. I am a hundred times happier with you out of my life. Stay away from me, okay? Just stay the hell away."

Brendan flinched and let his hand drop from Ste's wrist. He stared at the ground and listened to his footsteps as Ste abandoned his party, leaving both Doug and Brendan behind.

As Ste walked through Hollyoaks in the dark, alone, he started to feel a bit foolish. He'd stormed off in the heat of the moment, wanting to get away from Brendan and hadn't really thought it through. He didn't even have his coat.

_Why do I always let him get to me?_ Ste thought furiously, rubbing his arms to try and warm them up. He knew that he should go back to the party. Back to his guests, back to Cheryl, back to... back to Doug. But he couldn't bring himself to turn around. Ste knew that he was being selfish and that Doug was probably sick with worry but he just wanted to go home. He wanted things the way they used to be, with Amy and the kids there to offer him support and love and encouragement. Not the empty flat. He wanted... God he didn't even know what he wanted anymore.

"I'm sorry about this." Said a voice that he vaguely recognized. A hand clamped over his mouth and he felt cloth against his lips. He screamed, voice muffled, and thrashed but strong arms thwarted his drunken attempts of escape. He could smell fumes and tried to jerk away but it was too late.

"I really am sorry." Whispered Walker, slinging Ste's arm around his shoulder and maneuvering him the few feet to his car. "But Brendan has to pay."

Rachey Ayy


	4. The Hands of a Killer

Thank you so much for everyone who's reviewed so far! I really appreciate it! :)

I'm not that happy with the chapter but anyway. Hope you enjoy and sorry I've took so long. Please review x

The Hands of a Killer

As he slowly woke up, Ste didn't know much. He didn't know where he was and didn't know how he got there. Didn't know why, either. He knew he hurt, though. It felt like someone was hammering into his skull. His body ached as well, the kind of ache that came with staying in the same position for too long only worse. His arms were pulled behind his back and it took his half-asleep mind a few seconds to realize he why he couldn't move them.

He was tied up. Ste was _tied up _and he didn't know where the fuck he was and he couldn't remember how the fuck he'd gotten there. He stared around him with wide, startled eyes. A basement. He was in a basement. The floor was hard and cold. Pipes ran along the walls, one of which Ste was tied to.

Why was he tied up? Ste remembered... what did he remember? He remembered the party, the uncomfortable atmosphere and awkward conversations. He remembered Cheryl and drinking far too many drinks. He remembered leaving for air and Brendan. God, he remembered Brendan. Ste winced as he recalled his words.

_"I don't need your help, I don't need your protection. I don't need you. I am a hundred times happier with you out of my life. Stay away from me, okay? Just stay the hell away."  
_  
Brendan had been trying to help him, trying to warn him about this and he'd just sent him away.

"I'm an idiot," He mumbled miserably and felt tears forming behind his eyes and he felt weak and hopeless.

Then the panic came, swift and urgent. He was tied up in a basement and there was some revenge-seeking psycho out there.

Ste tugged at his bonds, once, just testing. He pulled harder, with all of his strength. He thrashed and and yanked and struggled for all he was worth. Even though it hurt, he pulled and strained and maneuvered and tried to free his damn wrist from the fucking rope. It burned, the friction causing his to cry out. He still tried though, even though he knew it was in vain. The rope cut into his wrist so hard that he felt the sticky wetness of blood on his skin.

He screamed. He screamed for help, for someone to save him. He screamed for mercy, for freedom. He screamed, desperate and terrified, until his throat was sore and voice hoarse. He screamed for Brendan.

When he was too tired to struggle and his voice too sore to shout, he cried. Small sobs rocking his body and salty tears ran down his eyes. He curled himself into a defensive ball and called himself an idiot. He cursed Brendan for being Brendan, for crossing lines and making enemies.

Eventually, he stopped crying. He sat there, held captive like an animal, and his fear turned into anger and then, in turn, to hatred. It grew and festered as Ste stared holes into the walls, tears drying on his face and hands clenching and unclenching to keep circulation going.

It was how Walker found him, hours after Ste woke up. He stared in disbelief at the man in front of him. Of all the people, he hadn't expected this.

"You... you're the one who did this?"

"Yes."

"But.. but you and Brendan are friends." Well, maybe friends was putting it a bit strongly but allies certainly, "Why would you... why?"

"Me and Brendan aren't friends," Walked took a step forward, sneering, "He's a pathetic excuse for a human being and deserves to rot."

"What?" Ste frowned, his mind a mess of confusion and anger and lingering fear. "I thought... what did he do?"

"He killed my brother." Walked told him, voice cold and Ste saw the conviction in his eyes.

That didn't stop the denial on his tongue, the disbelief. "No. He wouldn't. He wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he?" Walker asked, eyes narrowed.

"No, he's not... he's not evil. He wouldn't... he's not a bad person." Ste insisted, though he felt the doubts creeping in. What if it was true, what if Brendan had killed again? He'd accepted what happened with Danny, moved on, but what if it had happened again?

"You think he's not capable of murder?" Walker questioned and his eyes widened when he saw the guilt on Ste's face. "Or maybe you think he is? Maybe you know he is."

"He's not a bad person." Ste mumbled, jaw clenched.

"But he is a murderer." Walker stated and Ste didn't try and contradict him.

"Why am I here?" Ste asked, mind reeling. Walker still hadn't told him.

"Brendan took away the most precious thing in the world from me. Now, I'll show him exactly how that feels."

"But me and Brendan, we aren't together anymore." Ste explains hastily. "He doesn't care about me anymore."

"Ste, do you think I'm stupid?" Walked asks, glaring, "I saw it, every time he looked at you or that deli of yours. Every time you were mentioned."

"Saw what?"

"His feelings for you. Unfortunately for you, Brendan's still in love with you. That means, I'm afraid, that you have to die."

"What?" Ste cried, startled, "You can't just kill me 'cause of Brendan. I've never done anything to you, you bastard!"

"I'm sorry, Ste. You're a price I'm willing to pay to make Brady suffer."

"You don't have to do this."

"I do, Ste. I really do."

"You don't." Ste shook his head, eyes wide and pleading. "Please Walker. Please don't do this."

"I do." Walker's eyes met his and Ste knew that he believed himself. Walker couldn't see any other choice. It was in that moment that Ste knew, without a doubt he was going to die. There was no way out, no mercy to be had. No savior, no escape. Just death, when Walker decided it was time.

For the second time that day, Ste curled in a ball and cried.

***

Brendan was in the club, nursing a glass of whiskey, when Douglas ran up the stairs. Brendan couldn't help the flair of hatred at the sight of him. Why did this man, this boy, get everything while he always ended up with nothing?

"What do you want, Douglas?" Brendan asked, staring at the amber liquid with a sigh.

"Ste. Have you seen Ste?" He asked, voice urgent and desperate and laced with fear. Brendan paused, frozen, as his heart pounded in his ears.

_No, this isn't happening._ He thought, pushing the panic down.

Slowly, he stood up. "Why?"

"He won't answer the phone and no one's seen him. I'm worried. I've looked everyw-"

"When did you last see him?" Brendan interrupted, staring at him intently. He couldn't keep the panic down now. It flooded through his body, making his hands shake and jaw clench.

"Last night. Last night at the party." Doug said.

Last night. The night Brendan had watched Steven walk home by himself, drunk as hell. The night he had allowed Steven to leave because he'd wounded his pride. Now Ste was missing and it was Brendan's fault. It was all Brendan's fault.

"No!" He screamed, the glass shattering as he flung it at the wall. Doug's eyes were wide with terror as he flinched, backing up.

"You have no idea where he is?" Brendan growled, voice tight.

Doug shook his head.

Brendan would find him. He had to find him. Then, when he did, he was going to kill Walker for ever laying a hand on Steven.

"I'll kill him." Brendan hissed, shoving past a startled Doug.

***

"Brendan'll kill you, you know." Ste had spat, when the tears stopped coming. He glared at Walker with bloodshot eyes.

"No, he won't."

"He will. He'll break every bone in your fucking body. You kill me, and you can run as fast as you want. Brendan'll hunt you down." Ste knew it was true. He knew because he knew Brendan, knew how deep his loyalty ran. He wouldn't let Walker get away with it.

"I don't doubt he'll try." Walker said, grinning, "But I've got a secret weapon."

"What?"

"You." He laughed, "And this."

Then, he pulled out a gun. Ste's breath caught at the sight of it. Slowly, Walker got up from the floor and walked towards him.

"No matter how much he hates me, Brendan will do anything I say. He'll do it to keep you from getting a bullet through your brain." The cool metal pressed to his skull. A warning. He hated it, the feeling of helplessness. His life held so completely in Walker's hands."I hold all the cards, Ste. I can't lose."

"It's not a game." Ste mumbled, horrified. He was shaking, and his heart was like a rabbits in his chest.

"Isn't it?"

"No, it's not. Brendan's gunna kill you."

"It won't matter if he does." Walker said and Ste looked up. His eyes were cold and distant as they met his. "I'm already dead."

"I hate you." Ste whispered, voice low and gruff.

"Oh, that's a bit harsh." Walker smirked. He was sitting on the floor across from Ste again, leaning casually on the wall, messing with his phone.

"You've kidnapped me."

"It isn't personal."

"It is to me." Ste snarled because, when someone takes away your freedom, it's the only way to see it.

"It doesn't matter what you think anyway." Walker said, before pointing his phone at Ste - taking a photo. Evidence. Ste knew exactly who he was sending it to.

***  
Brendan stared at his phone. A message from Walker. Directions to some house in the middle of the countryside. A warning not to bring anyone. And a photo.

Brendan's chest hurt when he looked at it, hurt with guilt and fear and panic. Steven was tied with his hands behind his back. His hair was flat across his forehead, his knees curled up to his chest defensively. He looked vulnerable. Brendan couldn't take his gaze from his face though: the narrowed eyes, the snarl of his mouth. The defiance. He felt a surge of pride - the lad had stayed strong.

Brendan prayed that he didn't give up hope. He would get his boy out of there. Or he'd die trying.

***

The the phone rang, not 30 seconds after the message was sent.

"That was quick." Walker says, answering.

"Walker?" Brendan's voice sounded strange over the loud speaker but it still made Ste's heart catch in his throat.

"Brendan."

"What the fuck are you playing at?!" Brendan growled menacingly but the distress was clear in his voice. "Let him go, Walker."

"I can't I'm afraid." Walker sighed.

"I'll kill you if you touch him."

"I'm not going to touch him. Yet." Walker laughed, "You just make sure that you get here, okay? And if you bring anyone, I'll put a bullet through poor Steven's brain."

"I'll be there." Brendan assured.

"No!" Ste shouted, "Don't! Please Brendan, don't come here. Just stay away!"

"Steven?" He whispered and he sounded lost.

"Yeah, it's me. Please, don't come. I'm begging you." Ste pleaded with him, "Stay away."

The other end of the phone was silent.

"Brendan?" He asked.

"I'm sorry Steven," Came the reply, "But you know I can't do that."

Ste slumped down, defeated. He had known, in his heart, that Brendan wouldn't listen to him. He'd had to try though because being stuck in that room was torture. Knowing that he was going to die was worse. But having Brendan there too, knowing that he was doomed as well... Ste knew he couldn't take it. He was barely holding it together and he just... he just needed to know that Brendan was safe.

Ste thought that's he'd done crying. After spending hours of screaming and sobbing and shaking, he'd agreed that enough was enough. After begging and pleading to a man who just didn't care, he'd told himself he wasn't going to show weakness. Not in front of that monster, not again.

He managed a few tears for Brendan though.

***

Ste was curled up in a ball. His hands were still behind his back, like always, and his legs were pulled up to his chest, head resting on his knees. The fight had gone out of him, fading with every hour spent contained. He wasn't arguing anymore, or making threats, but he wasn't crying. He just... waited.

For something to happen. For Walker to do something, say something. For the end, as much as he was dreading it. For Brendan, mainly though. Ste needed to see him, if they were really going to die. Just one more time.

He didn't have to wait long.

"We've got a visitor." Walker murmured, not three hours after the phone call. Blearily, Ste raised his head. Walker stood up and walked towards him, gun in hand. Ste gave a startled cry when he felt the gun pressed to his skull again.

"Steven?" A voice called, nervous and furious all at once.

"Brendan!" Ste screamed in reply. He could hear the footsteps as he moved upstairs. Then, suddenly, the basement door flew open and he was there. He looked like an avenging angel, his fury evident on his face and his mouth curled in a snarl. There was a gun in his hand, pointed at Walker, and Ste allowed himself a moment of hope.

Then, he remembered Walker and knew Brendan wasn't going to fire - not with a gun pointed at him as well. Ste wished that he would, maybe then at least they'd have a chance.

"Put the gun down Brendan." Walker said smugly, like he knew he'd won, "Or I'll kill him."

Brendan looked at him then. Eyes widening, breath catching. His hand shook slightly before he lowered the gun, defeated.

"There's a good boy." Walker's tone was patronizing but Brendan didn't look at him. He was too busy staring at Steven. His gaze raked over his body, looking for injuries no doubt. Ste didn't have any, not really. Not that it would matter seeing as they were both doomed.

"Steven." He murmured, voice soft and eyes pained.

Ste didn't say anything, didn't know what to say. He only watched as Walker took the magazine from Brendan's gun, throwing the useless weapon to the ground. Walker tied Brendan up and Brendan let him, the gun in Walker's hand an incentive to behave.

He didn't say anything as blue eyes met his, filled with pain and remorse.

"I'm sorry." Brendan told him and Ste only nodded. He knew Brendan hadn't wanted him to be hurt, hadn't expected him to be caught in the cross-fire. He couldn't find it in himself to be angry. He didn't want his last moments with Brendan to be tainted by hate or blame. "I'm so sorry, Steven."

Ste managed a weak smile.

***

Brendan was a mess of emotions. Guilt. Anger. Betrayal. Fear. His hatred for Walker intensified by his love for Steven. Walker had no right involving him in this.

Brendan listened as the other man listed his faults. How he didn't deserve to live. How he wrecked lives and had the hands of a killer. How he was a pathetic, revolting waste of skin.

He listened silently, keeping his temper under control. He needed a plan. He needed to get Steven out alive. Eventually, though, he snapped. Brendan may have been tied up, but he was still Brendan and enough was enough.

"You stand there, calling me up on my sins. But you're no better Walker." Brendan sneered, hatred and anger outweighing his fear, "You're a bastard. Threatening people I love, innocent people. You're a coward. A disgusting, coward."

Walker's eyes blazed with fiery defiance. "Disgusting, am I?" He tucked his gun into the waste band of his jeans and reached into his pocket, retrieving something. A knife. It was a switchblade, small but menacingly sharp. Lethal. Walker gazed at the blade, caressing the edge with feather light touches, just shy of cutting himself. "You know, I've never thought of myself as disgusting before. Except this one time. It was after Cheryl saw you cutting up that body, do you remember?"

Brendan flinched as though he was hit, "You bastard." He whispered, staring at the floor. He couldn't look up, not then, not at Steven.

_What the hell must be going through his mind?_ Brendan thought with despair, _He must think I'm a monster_.

"Oh, haven't you told him? Does beloved Steven not know that you're a murderer?" Walker's voice took on a darker tone, "I don't suppose he knows about after either, does he? About what we did. What I had to do."

Brendan looked up then and saw the revulsion on Walker's face as he thought back to that night.

"I was disgusted with myself, after I slept with you - the one person I hate more than anyone else in the world. You have no idea how hard that was. It made me sick. You make me sick."

Brendan kept quiet through his speech but was conscious of the fact that Walker was moving, slowly backing towards Steven. He looked at the knife as it glinted dangerously and imagined what Walker would do with it. The blood it could spill. Steven's blood.

"Don't hurt him Walker." Brendan warned, fear creeping into his voice. His words were met with a smirk before he turned around, facing the other man. Brendan watched as Steven stared up at him, eyes wide and filled with terror. Walker bent down and his body contorted as he tried to distance himself from his captive.

Brendan watched with a horrified fascination as Walker brought the knife behind Ste's back, slicing easily through his bonds. Steven immediately tried to back away but a blade to the throat stopped him.

"How does it feel to know you love a murderer" Walker questioned, straightening. He dragged Steven roughly to his feet and moving behind, the knife still in place.

"No! No, don't touch him, you bastard! Don't fucking touch him!" Brendan cried, thrashing left and right. "Don't touch him."

"How can you love," Walker snarled, the words accusing and angry, "A person like that? It's his fault. This is his fault. It's all his fault. How can you love someone like him?"

Ste's head turned to the side, away from Brendan but Walker gripped his face with his free hand and turned it so he was facing forward. Brendan sobbed as blue eyes met his. He could see the tears, the silent tracks that slid down his face. He saw the fear there, the pure terror that can only come from knowing that you're going to die. It killed him, to see the pain. He was supposed to protect him, to shelter him, but he had caused this. He was the reason for Steven's pain, his fear. It was his fault and he hated himself for it. He would have fought, would've died, for the boy if he could. Would've given anything in the whole god damn world to take it all away. But he couldn't because he was tied up and useless and too weak and too slow to do one thing right. He couldn't do that one thing, the most important thing, the thing he promised himself he would do no matter what. He couldn't keep Steven safe.

"I'm sorry." Brendan whispered, his voice desperate but honest. He needed him to know that much at least. "I'm so sorry Steven. For everything."

Steven stared at him, tears making his eyes bright. His gaze was haunted. But the blame wasn't there, the blame that Brendan knew had to be there. The blame that rested on his shoulders. He wished he could see into the other mans thoughts, see the extent of the damage he'd caused. See just how much Ste hated him.

"I forgive you, Brendan. I didn't mean what I said at the club." He swallowed and winced as the knife nicked his skin. "I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry about the deli. I'm sorry about Doug. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm sorry that I never told you. I'm sorry."

Steven sobbed, lips quivering. Brendan didn't understand all of what he was saying but he understood enough. "You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"Well, isn't this touching?" Walker huffed, pressing the knife harder into Ste's neck. "The big bad Brendan Brady falling in love with a little queer. Poor, weak, defenseless Ste. I suppose that's what you like, isn't it? Power. God, you're disgusting. Both of you."

Brendan saw Ste's eyes narrow, and jaw clench. He wasn't crying anymore. The fear in his eyes was replaced with anger, hostile hatred. It was always there but Walker's words brought it to the surface. Brendan knew that Walker was wrong. Steven wasn't defenseless and he was far from weak. He was strong, stronger than most. He had this core of steel and no matter how many times he was kicked to the floor, he got back up. Brendan knew what Steven was about to do, knew the risk he was going to take. He knew because he knew Steven. He knew the lad inside out. Steven was a fighter and he fought dirty.

"No." Brendan said, voice pleading.

"Oh, you are." Walker insisted but Brendan wasn't talking to him.

Steven met his eyes then and flashed him a grim smile. He mouthed something. Goodbye, maybe. So the lad knew how risky it was, knew that this could go wrong in so many different ways. But he was going to do it anyway because he was Steven Hay. He was a chancer, brave as fuck when he needed to be. Brendan looked up at the ceiling, mouthed a prayer. To keep Steven safe, to let him come out of this alive, because God must know that the boy didn't deserve this.

"You're one to talk, Walker." Steven goaded. "You slept with Brendan. Doesn't that make you a queer too?"

Walker's eyes flashed and he walked around so he was facing Ste. "I had to. It was work."

"Oh. Work. Sure." Steven said patronizingly and Brendan had to admit that he had guts. He supposed it was easier to put your life on the line when you knew you were going to die anyway. A last ditch attempt.

"Brendan." Walker growled. "Tell you're toy boy here to shut the fuck up before I slice open his jugular."

"I bet you liked it really. In fact, I bet you loved it."

Walker lowered his knife. His other hand curling into a fist. This was it, Steven's opening. If this didn't work...Steven was as good as dead.

"I'm going to enjoy this." Walker mumbled before his fist met Ste's face.

Only, he didn't get the chance because Steven got there first. His kneed Walker, hard, in his crotch and he doubled over.

"You..." Walker hissed but Ste wasn't finished.

He grabbed Walker's hair and pulled his head back before punching him in the jaw, his whole weight behind it. Walker stumbled backwards and Brendan knew that he hadn't expected this, not from weak, defenseless Ste. Walker had underestimated him, and that gave Ste an edge. An edge he really needed considering he was fighting a police officer. Brendan could only watch in horror as his lover fought for his life.

***

Ste knew that he wasn't as big as Walker, or as strong or as experienced a fighter but he had something that Walker didn't. He had the will to live, the survival instinct. Walker had said it himself: I'm already dead. Ste had looked into his eyes and he'd believed him. He was empty inside. But Ste wasn't. He had everything to live for. He was fighting for himself, for his kids, for his life. He was fighting for Brendan's life. He wasn't going to lose, he couldn't lose. It wasn't an option. If he lost, him and Brendan were dead men.

Although it pissed him off that Walker saw him as some weak little gay boy and nothing more, Ste knew it was good. It meant it wouldn't expect him to fight back. Surprise was key as well. Walker would win if he saw Ste coming. Ste saw him lower the knife, saw him curl a hand into a fist. He didn't just slice him open like he could've. He wanted to hurt him, bruise him. Break him. Show how much stronger he was. Ste saw his opening and took it. A knee to his balls, where it would hurt. Ste was the first to admit he didn't fight fair. Then he grabbed his hair with his left hand, while he was stunned. His right hand in a tight fist, he punched with his whole body, straight to his jaw. Walker's head snapped to the side. That's when Ste jumped on him.

***

Brendan saw the knife skid across the floor as Steven barreled into Walker, using his weight to push him to the ground. Walker dragged Ste with him and they both landed heavily, Steven on top of Walker. Ste recovered first, landing another punch to Walker's face.

"I'm gunna kill you." Walker snarled, flipping them over. He pinned Ste's wrists above his head with one hand and reached behind him for the gun. Ste must have known what he was doing because he struggled harder, freeing a hand and grabbing a fist full of Walker hair, pulling him towards Ste and head-butting him in the face.

"You bastard." He growled when he dropped the gun

Steven fought in a flurry of motion. Biting, scratching, kicking out. Walker landed a punch to his cheek but the boy was always moving, squirming, fighting. Brendan couldn't tell who was winning, couldn't make out all of what was happening.

Walker held his wrists down but Steven arched up and rolled over, using every ounce of his strength to flip them so he was straddling Walker.

"The gun!" Brendan screamed at him and watched as they both scanned the floor. Steven saw it first and launched himself from Walker, diving towards it. Walker grabbed him around the waist but Brendan saw the glint of metal in Ste's hands.

"Get the fuck off me." Ste hissed, gun pointing dead-center at his skull. Slowly, Walker let go and stood up, eyes wide as though he couldn't quite believe it. Ste scrambled backwards, locating the knife and moving towards Brendan.

With shaking hands, Ste cut the ropes and Brendan dragged Steven into his arms, holding the trembling boy. He could feel the hammering of his heart and rubbed soothing circles into Steven's back, never taking his eyes from Walker. He was frowning at them as though they were one of the great mysteries of the universe.

"It's okay." Brendan whispered and felt Ste nod, before pulling away. He still held the gun in his hands.

"What now, then?" Walker asked, "I suppose you're calling the police."

Ste glared at the floor, chest heaving and fingers tightening around the metal.

"It won't matter, you know. None of this matters. I won't stop, Brendan. I will see you suffer."

"Shut up." Steven said, voice cold and empty.

"You will pay for everything that you've done." Walker continued, ignoring Ste's words. Brendan didn't though. He stared at the tears that silently leaked from narrowed eyes, saw his fingers clench around the grip. Brendan knew that Walker should stop pushing him, knew that he was close to breaking. Walker didn't see it though, didn't know how much danger he was in. Even after everything, he still underestimated Steven.

"Shut up." Ste repeated but, again, Walker ignored him.

"You and everyone who loves you."

"Shut up."

"Joel. Cheryl. Declan. Steven." Walker smiled, "I'll kill them all. Then, I'll kill you."

"Shut the fuck up!" Steven snarled, gun flying up to point at Walker.

Walker finally payed attention. He looked levelly at the gun before meeting Steven's eyes. "You don't have the guts."

Steven sobbed and Walker grinned. "I'm going to get him, you know. Brendan _will _die."

And then Steven snapped.

"No!" He screamed, voice wild and desperate and just a little bit manic.

_Bang _

"Don't!"

_Bang _

"Fucking!"

_Bang _

"Touch!"

_Bang _

"Him!"

_Bang _

Then silence.

Rachey Ayy xx


	5. Good Intentions

Hello! Thank you for everyone who reviewed the last chapter and followed the story. I really appreciate it! Sorry, I know this one is short. Also, I apologize in advance for the chapter after this one because, if I'm honest, I have no idea of how someone would go about disposing of a body/weapon/evidence. Thanks for reading!

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions 

"Steven."

Silence.

"Steven." He calls, voice gentle.

Nothing. No response.

"Steven." Brendan said more forcefully but the lad didn't move. Didn't _blink_. He just stared at Walker. At the 5 bullet holes that had tore through his body: two in his chest, one in his stomach, one in his leg and one in his shoulder.

Cautiously, as though Ste was a spooked animal, Brendan reached out and gently cupped his cheek. Startled, his eyes flicked up from the horror on the floor - the crimson blood staining Walkers shirt, leaking through cold, desperate fingers. Brendan winced when Ste's eyes meet his. He'd never seen the boy look more lost.

Brendan understood. He'd been there before. He remembered, would never forget, the way it had felt to take a life. To know that you had that sort of power at your fingertips but to not want it. To want to give anything in the world to turn back time, to before you crossed that line and became a killer. A monster. But Steven wasn't a monster. He was scared and confused. Desperate. Isolated. He needed help and Brendan would be there for him. He wouldn't abandon him. Never again.

***

Steven watched the scene with a detached sort of fascination. He watched as the bullets tore through Walker's flesh, jolting his body and making him stumble. He watched as the scarlet blossomed from his chest, from his stomach, from his shoulder, from his leg, spreading like a disease. He watched as Walker's eyes widened, as the bravado slipped from his face. He watched as shaking hands tried in vain to hold in the life blood, as his Walker's life literally slipped through his fingers. He watched as the man staggered forward before falling to his knees, his face contorted with pain and fear.

Walker had lied. Walker was human, just like him.

_"I'm already dead." _Walker had told him.

Ste watched as the man fell backwards. He watched as his fingers stopped twitching and his chest stopped rising and the ragged breaths abated.

_You are now_, he thought.

Ste looked at the body. The man that he had killed, the man that he murdered, was lying barely three meters away from him. He thought he should feel something but he didn't. He felt numb. All the anger, the blinding fury and hatred, had faded away. The fear, the desperation, the panic... it had all dispersed along with the threat. Along with Walker. All that remained was a void.

The silence was peaceful, calming. It was like time had stopped, just for him. He stared at Walker but he didn't see him. Didn't comprehend the full extent of what he'd done. Didn't want to. Vaguely, he could hear someone calling his name. He didn't answer, though. He didn't want to burst the bubble.

A hand, cold but firm, touched his cheek. He looked up. Brendan. Brendan was there. Brendan was alive. Brendan was _safe_.

"It's okay." He whispered and Ste shook his head because he knew that it wasn't. He knew that it would never be okay and he was just going to have to live with it. Ste looked at Brendan, pleaded with his eyes for him to do something. To take it back, make it better. To fix the mess that they'd made. But Ste knew that he couldn't, that no one could.

"We're going to be okay, Steven. I promise you that we'll be okay." Brendan insisted and Ste just laughed, manic and disbelieving because who was Brendan to promise something like that?

"Liar." Ste mumbled. The desperation was back, and the panic and the _fear_. Only this time there was nothing he could do. No enemy to fight. No enemy left at all. Only himself and his conscience. Everything he'd ever known being questioned and rewritten, the line between right and wrong blurred beyond belief. He felt so fucking alone suddenly, too young and too scared to face this by himself. Only he wasn't alone, not completely, because he had Brendan. In that moment, Brendan was all he had.

Ste let Brendan hold him, his solid body anchoring him to reality. He buried his face in Brendan's neck and flung his arms around his chest, clinging to the other man in desperation. They didn't say anything else. There wasn't anything else that could've been said. The only sound in the room was their gentle breaths and the echo of the gun hitting the floor as Ste let it fall from his fingers.

* * *

Brendan had failed to protect Steven from Walker but he'd be damned if he let the boy suffer any more. He had to take care of this somehow. He knew he couldn't phone the police. Maybe before it would've been an option but Ste had lost any claims of self defense when he'd shot an unarmed man 5 times. Sure, they could lie. Make it look like Walker still had a weapon, like Ste had had no choice. Brendan couldn't risk it though. He knew first hand how shit the justice system was. He knew that, if they involved the police, there was a very real possibility of Ste getting sent down. Brendan couldn't, wouldn't, let that happen. Imagining Steven in prison, that Hell hole tainting his innocence. Changing him and hurting him and quite possibly breaking him... Brendan didn't want to see it. He didn't want to watch everything that made Steven good slowly disappear. He couldn't protect Ste if he was behind bars. Where there were mad men and serial killers and rapists and _freaks _who would have years to torture him.

Brendan was still in shock though. Steven had killed Walker right in front of his eyes. Not only had he killed Walker... Ste had killed Walker for _him_. Ste had shot the bastard to protect him. He didn't know how to react. Brendan was always the one protecting people, sacrificing heaven and earth for the ones he loves. He'd never had someone sacrifice so much for him before. He'd never had someone who would do anything for him. Who'd even kill for him. And it wasn't Cheryl or his parents or Joel. It was Steven - the one who, by rights, should hate him the most. It was Steven who was holding the gun, who'd killed to keep him safe. It was Steven who was shaking in his arms. It was Steven who'd gone and changed everything again.

"Steven, I need you to do something for me." He said gently and Ste slowly let go of him, taking a step away.

He looked at him levelly although his hands still shook.

Brendan fished some keys out of his pocket, holding them out. "I need you to take these and get in the car. I want you to stay in there until I come and get you, okay?"

At first, he looked like he was going to protest but he simply nodded. Taking the keys, he slowly turned couldn't seem to force his feet to move though and Brendan knew what he was looking at.

"Steven." Brendan called and Ste looked back. "It will be okay."

Ste looked at him oddly and Brendan had no idea what he was thinking. "I'm sorry." He said, before turning around again and walking forward quickly. He skirted around the body and, with one curious, lingering look back at Brendan, he ran up the steps and through the door.

"It'll be okay." Brendan repeated, reassuring himself. He looked at Walker and felt a wave of hatred overcome him. Brendan couldn't even estimate the damage that had been done to Steven. Brendan knew he was strong but only time would tell if he could come to terms with what he'd done. There was a possibility that this could break him and Brendan was fucking terrified of it.

"You ruined everything, you fucking bastard."

It was Walker's fault they were both facing a prison sentence. It was Walker's fault that he now had a body on his hands that he had no way to dispose of.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Brendan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had to think of something and fast. Both of their futures was on the line.

***

Ste felt sick. He couldn't help but stare at the marks on his wrists. He ran his fingers over the angry, red skin. It was a reminder and the only thing keeping his sane.

Walker had tied him up, threatened him, put a gun to his head. He'd tried to kill him and then he'd threatened to kill Brendan as well. Walker was a bad person. Demented and cruel and desperate for revenge. That had to have made what he did just a little bit better, didn't it? Ste knew, he knew, that he was trying to justify it but nothing was going to take away the fact that he'd ended someone's life. He had to try and find a way around it though, find a way to live with it because, if he couldn't, where did that leave him? Did it mean he was as bad as Walker? Worse? He didn't know. All he knew was that he didn't regret it. He'd done it to keep himself safe, to keep Brendan safe. That wasn't bad, was it? Wanting to protect the people he loves? Ste knew that if it came down to it, no matter what the situation, he would always choose Brendan. Brendan's life had been in danger, his own life had been in danger, and he'd done what had needed to be done. He'd face the consequences because he had to but he'd never regret it. Not when they were both alive.

Ste knew he was being a coward. He was letting Brendan clean up the mess he'd made. But he didn't know if he could look at the body again, not without having some sort of break down. He just wanted to run away, to drive and drive and never fucking stop. He wanted to be free.

He couldn't run away though, and he couldn't leave. He couldn't forget either. It felt like the image of Walker's body was branded into his mind for eternity. The colour of his blood, the sound of the gunshots, the look in his eyes as he took his last breath... it wasn't going to go away. So Ste did the next best thing. He prayed for forgiveness, for mercy and for peace. Then, in the passenger seat of the car, he curled up in a ball, closed his eyes and waited for Brendan. He didn't cry, though. He wouldn't let himself. If he started, he didn't know if he would ever stop.

Rachey Ayy xx


	6. What If

I know, I know. This is shamefully late (and short) but better than nothing right? Right?  
Anyway, sorry :(

What If 

Brendan's heart broke for Steven, curled up asleep in the passenger seat. He looked peaceful then, despite the bruises blooming across his jaw and under his eye. He looked innocent and far too young. Ste wasn't a bad person. He believed it, felt the truth of it in his heart. Steven wasn't bad. Brendan was determined to help him, to show him that he was still pure inside. He would teach him how to move on, to let go of his mistakes. Brendan would save Steven and maybe... maybe Steven could save him too.

_He wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for me, _Brendan's mind whispered, brutally honest. _This is my fault. He would be better off without me  
_  
Brendan didn't think he was strong enough to leave him alone though. He would stay by his side, protecting him and comforting him and loving him. Would give his life if he had to but he didn't think he could ever leave him - even if it was for the best. He knew he was being selfish but he couldn't help it, not with Steven lying in front of him looking so vulnerable.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, caressing Ste's face with his fingertips. Brendan had come so close to losing him. He didn't know what he would've done if he been too late. If Walker had been too strong. If Walker had found the gun first, not Steven.

"I can't ever lose you, okay? Not ever." He confided, the intimacy he found so hard to express coming easily while the boy slept, unaware. "I need you."

Ste mumbled in his sleep and Brendan jerked back as if burnt, hitting his elbow on the car door. "Shit!" He yelped in alarm and Ste's eyes blinked open.

"Brendan?" He mumbled, voice confused and laced with sleep.

"Yeah." Brendan assured, "It's me."

Ste sat up and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Where are we?"

"Still outside the farm." He said gently and saw Ste's eyes widen in recognition. He remembered then.

"Okay." he nodded, taking a deep breath, "Did you... did you take care of..." Brendan watched as Ste tripped over his words.

"Yeah, yeah I took care of it."

Brendan remembered discovering the hole behind the farm, a gap in the earth deep enough to hide a body. A grave. Steven's grave, if things had gone differently. The bottles of disinfectant and bleach, brand new, piled in one of the rooms. He remembered the disgust that he'd felt - Walker had been prepared. It made dragging Walker's corpse outside a little easier to stomach, knowing that it had been him or them. He couldn't look at his face though, cold and dead and guilty. Brendan may have been a murderer but he wasn't unfeeling and that man... Brendan had almost, almost, considered him a friend. An ally. A confident. Someone like him, someone he could relate to. The sting of betrayal hurt. Brendan was reminded, suddenly, of why he kept his walls high and heart hidden. It was to stop things like that happening. Letting people in never ended well. It ended in bloodshed, every fucking time. He let Steven in and had to kill Danny. He let Joel in and ended up killing Mick. He let Walker in and now there was another body to deal with. Brendan had been a fool to forget.

Brendan had no one. Walker betrayed him, Joel had ran away with Theresa at the first sign of trouble, Cheryl hated him, Lyndsay was dead... he had no one he could rely on, no one he could trust. He was alone. He always ended up alone.

Only he wasn't. Brendan looked at Steven as he stared out of the car window and felt a wave of pure gratitude.

That boy... he was always there, wasn't he? Even though he'd suffered the most. He always bore the brunt of Brendan's issues: his anger, his violence, his insecurities, his betrayals. Brendan had lied to him, hurt him, threatened him and broken every promise he'd ever made. Steven knew what he was like more than anyone. Yet he was still there. Even when the feelings between them had become so twisted, so fucked up that it wasn't even recognizable as love anymore, Steven had still been there when he was needed. Offering support and comfort and friendship. Fucking friendship. After everything, Ste had still considered him a friend. Brendan wondered at the boy, so similar to him and yet so different. Beautiful and innocent yet violent and manipulative and cruel. The boy could be cruel, could make his heart fucking bleed when he was pushed. But he was strong and brave and resilient. He would be okay, Brendan knew. He would because he had to be.

_If I had to trust someone_, Brendan mused, starting the car,_ it would be him. _

Steven had killed Walker to protect him and that changed everything. Changed the whole dynamic of their relationship. They were equal in a sick sort of way - both having killed for the other. Brendan didn't know what to do about it though.

"Where're we going, Brendan?" Ste asked quietly, staring out the window as the world sped by.

"Far away." Brendan replied, voice reassuring. "Somewhere far away."

He drove until he couldn't remember the way back. He drove past field after field and down countless country roads. Down nameless streets and houses until he reached the motorway. Then he kept driving.

***  
_  
He runs as fast as he can. So fast his lungs burn and legs ache, desperate eyes search the dark for the danger he knows is there. He can't see anything, nothing past the road beneath his feet. He keeps running, knowing that it's right behind him. One mistake and it'll have him. He can't escape. There's no where to run, no where to hide. He can sense it's eyes watching him, can feel it's breath on his neck and it sends shivers down his spine. He pants as his feet fly over the hard concrete. His heartbeat is racing and his mind is numb with fear. It almost has him. It's right behind him. He can't run any faster, though he tries. Pushing his body to work harder. He needs help. He clings to the hope that someone will save him - he just has to keep running. He knows, though, deep down, that no one's coming. He's never been more alone in his life. His eyes sting as the tears flow down his cheeks, wind pushing him backwards. He has to escape. He has to. He can't. He's so afraid. Helpless. He stumbles, feet collapsing under him and he lands on all fours. The road is hard as it collides with his body and he cries out. He screams for help but no one can hear him. It's coming for him. It's going to get him. He can't escape. No one comes to save him. _

"Steven! Steven! Wake up!" Brendan shouted, shaking the boy. He thrashed in his sleep, tears leaking out of closed eyes and Brendan listened to his incoherent mumbling with a heavy heart.

"No... don't... please, plea... please... help... don't leave me... help... help me."

Brendan shook him harder and Steven jolted awake. He jerked backwards, panting and shaking with fear.

"It's okay." Brendan assured, voice soothing, "It was just a dream, Steven."

Startled, Ste stared at him and Brendan could see the terror in his wide, bloodshot eyes. "Brendan?" He asked. His voice was small and laced with slowly departing fear.

"You're okay. It was a dream." He repeated and Steven nodded, his eyes glistening with tears. "Hey, it's okay. Steven, it's okay."

Brendan reached out and pulled him forward, one arm tight around his neck and the other rubbing circles on his back. Ste's hands gripped his shoulders, digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. His body shivered under Brendan's hands and he clung on tighter. The boy was so fragile, so close to falling apart. Brendan turned his head and kissed his temple, mouthing reassurances into his skin. He needed Steven to be okay. That's all that he wanted. He needed him to be okay.

He could hear Steven breath slowly even out and he held him until the tremors abeited.

"I'm sorry." Ste muttered, edging away from him. Brendan mourned the loss of contact but knew that it wasn't his place to comfort him. Not any more. The recent events hadn't changed everything. Brendan told himself not to give up - trust took time to earn.

"What for?"

Ste just shook his head and wiped his eyes with his hand. He looked around and frowned, "Where the hell are we?"

"Wales, I think." Brendan told him, allowing the not-so-subtle subject change. He hadn't been keeping track really. He'd just drove until the panic in his chest eased and the desire to escape lessened.

"Wales?" Ste echoed, frown deepening, "What are we doing in Wales?"

"I thought we could use a break."

"Why Wales?"

Brendan shrugged, "Why not Wales?"

Steven didn't reply. He was staring into his lap, hands fidgeting with his shirt. Bruises mottled his skin, spreading from his left eye to the bottom of his jaw. His lip was swollen and scarlet, matching the smudge of blood on his cheek. It must have hurt but Ste said nothing, just stared vacantly.

_I'm losing him,_Brendan thought, heart heavy with guilt and frustration.

"Steven." Brendan spoke but the boy didn't reply. He didn't appear to have heard him at all. "Steven." He repeated and reached out, touching Ste's wrist lightly. He jumped at the touch, fearful eyes snapping up to meet Brendan's.

"What were you dreaming about?" He wondered.

"What?"

"Before." Brendan clarified, "When I woke you up. You looked... scared."

"I'm fine." Ste muttered, defensive. "It was just a dream."

"Yeah, I know but... after what happened... you're bound to be upset." Brendan struggled to explain. He wanted to help but how could he? What could he possibly do to make it better?

"Upset?" Steven laughed, indignant. "Upset? No, Brendan! I'm just great (!)" Steven opened the door and launched himself out, immediately followed by Brendan.

"Look, why don't we just... you know... talk about it."

Ste rounded on him, face angry and hostile. Brendan knew Steven though, and he could see straight through it. He could see the fear underneath. He could see the shame and the guilt.

"No Brendan! I don't want to talk about it! Especially not with you! I just want to forget." Ste screamed and Brendan was glad that they were on some country road in the middle of no where with no one around to listen in. He flinched at Ste's words, at the resentful scowl on his bruised, innocent face.

_Steven blames me. He's right. It's my fault._

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're sorry? Well that's okay then!" He howled, voice dripping with disdain.

"I know that it doesn't change anything. I know that. But I am sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Steven." Brendan didn't want forgiveness. He didn't deserve forgiveness. He'd ruined the boys life. But he wanted him to understand. He hadn't meant things to turn out the way they had.

"Please, can we just not do this?" Steven asked, voice suddenly small and desperate. "Because I'm trying really hard not to cry right now and I just... I can't..."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you trying not to cry?" Brendan held his arms out and slowly spun around. "There's no one here Steven. If you want to cry then cry. If you want to scream then scream. We can stay here all day if you want. We don't have to face the world until you're ready."

"And what if I'm never ready, Brendan? What then?" Steven stared at him with wet, pleading eyes. "I killed someone. That's never going away."

"No, it won't." Brendan told him and slowly took a step forward. "But I'll be here. Every step of the way, Steven. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I don't know what to do, Brendan." Steven whispered, voice broken and honest. He wasn't crying yet but he was close - tears stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes. Brendan kept walking until he was less than a meter away.

"It's going to be okay."

"I'm not like you, Brendan. I'm not strong. I can't do this. I can't cope with this."

"Yeah, you can Steven. You're the strongest person I know." Brendan placed his hands on Ste's shoulders. "You're alive and I'm alive. Right now, that's all that matters."

Steven nodded slightly and his lip wobbled, a strangled noise escaped his throat and, suddenly, he was in Brendan's arms. He held Ste close but he couldn't control the sobs that rocked his body. Ste's frame literally trembled as he cried and Brendan didn't know what to do, didn't know what he could do, other than hold him tight. The boy had finally snapped, the events too much to bare.

"It's okay, Steven. I'm right here." He whispered, "I'm right here."

Rachey Ayy xx


	7. Facing My Demons

Bonjour! Sorry that this is so late and short but I've been really busy studying for my French exam. This chapter was actually really hard to write and I'm not too happy with it.

Thank you so much for everyone who has taken the time to review my work.

Facing My Demons

Ste didn't know what the hell he was doing. Sitting cross-legged on some country road in the middle of nowhere, Brendan beside him as they shared a luke-warm bottle of water he had bought in some gas station miles back. Things had changed again, between them. Brendan wasn't the enemy, never had been really, and they couldn't play around anymore. No more who-can-care-less games or point scoring. They'd almost died. They were only alive thanks to Ste, thanks to the sacrifice he'd made. Games just didn't seem important anymore. Pride didn't seem important. All Ste wanted in the whole God-damn world was to get back into the car and keep driving. All he wanted was for Brendan to take him away. Never mind Wales - they could be in London. France. Spain. Anywhere but back to Hollyoaks.

"I don't want to go home, Brendan." He confided, eyes distant as he pictured what could be. The life they could lead. Running away didn't seem so hard when they were alone. Their responsibilities seemed a million miles away. "I want to run away so badly. Does that make me a coward?"

"No." Brendan replied, studying him with far too perceptive eyes. "It makes you human."

"Huh. What would... what would you do if I got in the car right now and drove away? If I just kept driving?" Ste wondered, eyes flicking up to meet his.

Brendan snorted. "You can't drive. You don't have a license."

"Just 'cause I don't have a license doesn't mean I can't drive." Ste replied moodily, glaring. "I've been able to drive since I was barely a teenager."

"Whatever you say, Steven." He said, mouth curling up into a jokingly condescending smirk.

"You're changing the subject!" He huffed, not taking the bait. "What would you do, though? Honestly?"

Brendan didn't reply. He just stared, eyes narrowed.

"Would you come with me? Would you follow me, no matter where I was going?" Ste's voice was curious but the urgent tone was hidden just beneath the surface, begging for the truth. He needed to know where they stood.

"Always." Brendan replied and his voice was honest. No lies, no games. Ste smiled.

"Good." Steven told him. There was hope in his smile, and something like gratitude.

"We're going to be okay, you know." It was an empty reassurance and they both knew it. It didn't stop Ste from nodding though, going along with it as though believing it would make it true.

"We could be on a plane to Paris by the end of the day, if you wanted to. Then, we could be half way around the world in a week. Maybe two. Anywhere in the world, Brendan. We could be anywhere in the world."

"What about passports? Clothes?" Brendan asked as though he was actually considering it. Ste was.

"Fine. We go to Hollyoaks first. We'd be really quick, though. Straight in, straight out. No one would know we'd been there. We could be there and gone in no time."

"What about Douglas? Cheryl? They would be worried."

"Leave a note. A letter. Tell them goodbye." Ste was aware how cowardly it sounded, even as a hypothetical synario.

"And just disappear?" Brendan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"And just disappear." He confirmed, smiling slightly. They could do it. Right now, it was within their reach. He was caught up in his own joke and his heart ached with longing. Escape. What an idea.

"Where? France? What about Spain?" Brendan mused, only half joking.

"We could sit on the beach all day." He grinned, "You could drink all those stupid drinks you love. With umbrellas an' everything."

"Mmmm. Sun, sea and strawberry margaritas. Sounds good." Brendan grinned back, images of Steven in speedos flooding his mind. He knew that it was a dream - a stupid, pointless fantasy - but he wanted it. He wanted to run away, drive into the sunset and never look back.

"Sounds perfect. Right now. We could leave right now."

"We could." Brendan agreed but neither moved.

"Spain. I've never been to Spain, before." Ste mumbled and he was itching to get up and go. But there was something holding him back. There was always something holding him back.

"First time for everything." Brendan said and he nodded.

"Yeah." Steven smile slowly slipped away and he looked defeated. "But now's not the time, is it?"

"No." Brendan sighed and stood up, holding out a hand. "We've got to go home."

Steven grabbed his hand and let Brendan help him to his feet. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"You can't run away Steven. Not now." Brendan said and he looked sad. Maybe Ste wasn't the only one that wanted to run.

"One day. One day I'm going leave Hollyoaks and I won't ever look back."

"And I'll be waiting when you do." Brendan said and it made Ste a little less afraid. They weren't together, weren't even close to sorting themselves out, but they weren't alone either. And, for them, that was enough. To know that someone had your back, would always have your back, no matter what. It was nice to know that someone was on your side, especially when they were so used to standing alone.

"Then Spain here we come, eh?"

"Spain here we come." It sounded like a promise.

* * *

Ste couldn't sleep. He was tossing and turning in crisp hotel sheets. The room was too silent, too empty for his mind and his thoughts were suffocating him. The blanket lay in a heap at the bottom of the bed and his skin was clammy despite the fact he wore only boxers. Every time he closed his eyes, Ste could see Walker's face. He watched the life drain from angry, vengeful eyes. The colour of his blood running through long, pale fingers. Every time he dared to close his eyes, he could see it. Even when he didn't, even when he stared at the ceiling with wide eyes he could still feel him. Feel Walker's weight on his chest, pinning him down as Ste struggled for his life. The feel of the knife at his throat: cold and sharp and deadly. The gun pressed to his temple, the gun in his _hands_. The feel of the trigger that held so much destruction, that could cause so much pain. Even when he turned on the light with shaking fingers, afraid of the dark for the first time in his adult life, he could still hear him. Walker's voice ran circles around his mind, playing in a continuous loop.

_How does it feel to love a murderer?_

_How can you love someone like him?_

_It's all his fault._

_You're disgusting. Both of you._

_I'm going to kill you._

_I won't stop._

_You'll pay for everything you've done._

_You don't have the guts._

Walker's words taunted him, plagued his thoughts and he couldn't escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Nowhere Walkers voice wouldn't follow him.

_You're disgusting._

It was true. He was disgusting. He was a murderer, he'd took someone life. If people found out about it… they would hate him. He imagined Amy's face filled with fear and horror as she cowered from his touch. Leah and Lucas growing up without a father because she didn't trust him anymore. Doug's eyes filling with tears as he realizes who he'd proposed to. _What_ he'd proposed to. The look of disgust as he discovers that he's in love with a monster. He could imagine the rumours that would spread through the village.

"_I knew he was trouble. He was always violent, always angry."_

"_I always thought there was something off about him."_

"_He never had any self-control."_

"_After what he did to Amy, it was only a matter of time."_

Ste felt sick. Sick to the pit of his stomach. Disgusted with himself and with Walker and even with Brendan. They were monsters, all of them. Different but still the same, deep down. Ste rushed to the en-suite bathroom and fell to his knees as he emptied his stomach's meagre contents into the porcelain bowl. Afterwards he wiped his mouth on some toilet roll as sat on the bathroom floor, knees curled up to his chest. He couldn't go on like that, he couldn't. The guilt, the anger, the fear… it would drive him insane. It already was.

He felt the tears prick his eyes and he was helpless to stop it. The sobs tore through his chest and he whimpered, broken and scared and alone. He cried for his future – a life of guilt and lies and fear. He cried for Doug because he could never know the truth, he could never be the one to save Ste from the dark. He cried for Walker and for his brother – an innocent's death creating a monster. Ste cried for Brendan. He cried because he came so close to losing him. He cried because he hurt and the thought of going through life without Brendan had terrified him so fucking much that he'd killed to prevent it. Killed to save himself from the pain. He cried because loving someone that much wasn't normal and he was afraid of himself. Afraid of what he'd to avoid that pain, that loss. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore, until there were just no tears left inside. As the sobs mellowed into sniffles, he sat there on the cold tile floor, took a deep breath and told himself to be brave. Ste closed his eyes and let the images of Walker haunt him. He didn't shy away in fear, he didn't run to Brendan to make it go away. He had to do this, he had to confront his demons or he'd be running for the rest of his life. He thought about that night. He thought of Walker and his threats and his blood. He thought of the knife against his neck, the gun against his temple and his finger against the trigger as he chose to take a life. He sat there alone, replaying the night over and over in his mind. Again and again until he didn't wince when he heard the gun shots. Until the sound of Walker's voice didn't make him freeze in fear. Until the word murder didn't make him feel sick. He sat there all night as he came to terms with his actions and he didn't get up until he was ready. Until he could finally look in the mirror without feeling disgusted. And when that moment arrived, when he finally pulled himself up from the floor and took a long look at the mirror, taking in the bruises and the cuts and the shadows under his eyes, Ste knew that he would get through this. Ste knew that things would be okay. He would make it okay.

Rachey Ayy xx


End file.
